What varied opinions we constantly hear
Of our rich oriental possessions,
What a jumble of notions, distorted and queer,
Form an Englishman's 'Indian Impressions'.
First a sun, fierce and glaring, that scorches and bakes;
Palankeens, perspiration and worry;
Mosquitoes, thugs, coconuts, Brahmins and snakes;
With elephants, tigers and curry.
Then Juggernaut, punkahs, tanks, buffaloes, forts,
With bangles, mosques, nautches and dinglees;
A mixture of temples, Mahometans, ghats,
With scorpions, Hindoos and Feringhees.
Then jungles, fakirs, dancing-girls, prickly heat,
Shawls, idols, durbars, brandy-pawny;
Rupees, clever jugglers, dust-storms, slippered feet,
Rainy season and mulligatawny.
With Rajah – but stop, I must really desist,
And let each one enjoy his opinions,
Whilst I show in what style Anglo-Indians exist
In Her Majesty's Eastern Dominions.